


The Chalice of Ea'thule

by Shadaras



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cthulhu-Flavored Worldbuilding, F/F, Flirting, Magic, Pre-Relationship, Setting - Victorian Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:28:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26650699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadaras/pseuds/Shadaras
Summary: Minerva has been chasing Nisha the Nightwalker for a long time. This time, when they meet, who catches whom?
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15
Collections: Canon Ball 2020





	The Chalice of Ea'thule

**Author's Note:**

  * For [comicArtistA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comicArtistA/gifts).



“I knew you’d be here,” Minerva said, stepping out of the shadows.

Nisha smiled cheerfully as she crouched down to examine the binding circle she’d stepped into. “And I knew you would be. Isn’t it nice how that works?”

“The Chalice of Ea’thule is gone.” Minerva crossed her arms and watched Nisha. Dark hair braided elegantly into a bun at the nape of her neck, soft gray clothes with dove-gray accents the same color as the stone and fog she drifted across. Sharp eyes, a brown so dark they were almost black; most people never saw them close enough to see the color, but Minerva had been pressed close to Nisha more times than she cared to admit. “I had the museum place it in a more secure vault last night.”

Nisha snorted and pulled a piece of chalk out of one of the many little pouches she kept tied to her belt. “This museum doesn’t _have_ secure vaults, darling; it just has exhibits anyone could break into and vaults you need some training for.”

Minerva scrowled. “Just because I’ve yet to see a place you couldn’t break into doesn’t mean that just _anyone_ could break into the vaults.”

“See, now you’re just daring me to steal it.” Nisha glanced up, eyes shining in the moonlight. “I knew you liked me, but I didn’t dare imagine you loved me _that_ much.”

That hadn’t been her intent at all. Minerva did not step back from the force of Nisha’s gaze, no matter how much she wished she dared to. Nisha had always had that effect on her, from the very first time they’d met on the rooftops of Harrow-by-the-Sea. Minerva swallowed. “Love doesn’t have anything to do with it,” she snapped, moving forward to see what Nisha was doing with the chalk. “I’ve been given the duty of bringing you to justice, _Nightwalker_.”

“I’m not a vampire or anything like that,” Nisha said mildly. Her deft brown fingers sketched precise sigils around the runes Minerva had so painstakingly worked to copy. “If I were, this circle wouldn’t have worked at all. It’s for binding humans, not beings of aether and spirit.”

She wasn’t _wrong_ , was the thing. Minerva had never believed the rumors the town and its surrounds repeated endlessly: Nisha, the Nightwalker of Harrow-by-the-Sea, couldn’t be human. She slipped into places too well-guarded, escaped from any cage she was put in, and left behind no trace of her presence save a silvered moon in place of whatever she stole.

Minerva frowned at the sigils, trying to translate them fast enough to decide if she could do anything about them. “Thematically, you’d think they’d go for a werewolf.”

“That’s why I like you,” Nisha said casually, attention back on the circle she was inscribing in the middle of Minerva’s. “You’ve got an imagination. Good thing, too; otherwise this—” a gesture at the slowly-fading light of the binding circle “—wouldn’t have worked at all.”

Minerva cursed, pulling out the charmed rope she’d got months ago when she’d first caught Nisha’s tail and thought she might be _physically_ dangerous instead of simply _emotionally_ so. If only it had been so; she could deal with a fight much more easily than the flirtation and casual compliments Nisha tossed to her like flowers. _At least_ , she told herself, whipping the rope across the circle she belatedly recognised as a seal-breaker, _she might think it’s a flush of rage instead of a blush, this time_.

No such luck. Nisha ducked neatly under Minerva’s strike, fluid as the morning fog. “You’ve _got_ to take me out to dinner first,” Nisha called, retreating towards the windows. “That’s a bit much for our first real date!”

Minerva chased her, ears burning and heart pounding for more than one reason now. “You’ve already stolen it,” she realised, letting the words come out while cursing herself internally. “You didn’t need to come here at all!”

Nisha laughed, Minerva’s favourite sound (loathe though she was to admit it, even lying awake in her room long past the witching hour). “Oh, sweetheart,” she said fondly, pausing on the windowsill, “I couldn’t pass up a chance to see you.”

“What are you going to _do_ with it?” Minerva asked, climbing after Nisha. The trellis on the side of Harrow-by-the-Sea’s Museum of Paranormal Phenomena was sturdy, but wound with thorny roses. One of said roses fluttered down to land on Minerva’s face as she swore her way up after Nisha, who had scaled it without seeming to notice the thorns at all.

“I’m going to put it somewhere nobody can use it,” Nisha said, serious for once. Minerva paused, partway up the trellis, and saw the frown on Nisha’s normally cheerful face. “We don’t need a drowned object dredged up from the sea. Haven’t you felt its aura, Minerva? It’s cursed.”

Minerva swallowed. She’d heard her name said a hundred ways—cursed by the criminals she caught, sighed by her lovers as they came together, shouted by newsboys chasing down stories, forced through gritted teeth by the nobles whose property she returned—but Nisha had never before called her by her name. It was always “Darling” this, “Beautiful” that, “Sweetheart” yet another thing. If Nisha was using it, unmarked by surname or title or anything else, Minerva couldn’t help but listen.

“I’d assumed the Museum conducted an investigation and deemed it safe for display,” Minerva finally said, mechanically clawing her way up to the roof. The steep slope was guarded by gargoyles, and Nisha perched on one. Minerva sat heavily on the next one over, a frown on her face as she studied Nisha. “I have no innate sensitivity of my own, and did not have the time to conduct an investigation of my own.”

Nisha sighed. “I suppose that’s to be expected. Do you trust me, Minerva?”

Minerva gazed at her, and thought about all the times they’d crossed paths, all the ways Nisha could have caused destruction but instead caused naught but mayhem. For all the danger and mystery of her reputation, Nisha kept very few of the objects she stole. What she did keep, Minerva generally agreed shouldn’t be in anyone’s hands: A sword that whispered to its wielder the best way to kill those in front of it; a brittle gemstone rumored to summon a djinn seeking revenge if it were ever broken; a ring set with a martyr’s bones that allowed its wearer to compel those who heard their voice.

If Nisha said that the Chalice of Ea’thule was cursed, Minerva had to admit her track record was very good. She let out a sigh, and smiled ruefully at Nisha. With a voice far rougher than she intended, and far more meaning than she wished weighing her words down, she said, “I trust you.”

Nisha’s smile was more brilliant than the stars. “Then come with me,” she said, rising to her feet as if the ground beneath her were a solid road and not a gargoyle’s thin back. “Let me show you how I will return this _thing_ to its rest.”

Minerva caught her breath, then slowly nodded. “Don’t make me regret this,” she warned, crossing the roof to stand at Nisha’s side.

She laughed, already turning towards the sea. “Oh, darling,” Nisha said. “I’d never want you to regret joining me.”

Was that what she was doing? Minerva didn’t have time to ask, because Nisha jumped off the roof as easy as if she were hopping a fence, and there was no time for any thoughts save one:

 _I’ve got to keep up._

Minerva took a deep breath, promised herself it would turn out fine, and—as she always had and always would—gave chase.


End file.
